


Rhythm

by QueenOfNewOrleans22



Category: Bon Jovi (Band)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:14:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27868994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfNewOrleans22/pseuds/QueenOfNewOrleans22
Summary: Richie enjoyed the feeling of strings underneath his fingers, gliding beneath as he strummed them so softly that the sound was barely audible."Hey, Mr - Wait, no, that's not right." He grimaced, clearing his throat, exhaling through his nose in frustration. "Okay, back up to the top. One, two, three..."
Relationships: Jon Bon Jovi/Richie Sambora
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	Rhythm

Richie enjoyed the feeling of strings underneath his fingers, gliding beneath as he strummed them so softly that the sound was barely audible. 

" _Hey, Mr -_ Wait, no, that's not right." He grimaced, clearing his throat, exhaling through his nose in frustration. "Okay, back up to the top. One, two, three..." 

Deep asleep, Jon made a noise from deep within his throat, and rolled onto his back, hands folded on his stomach, and Richie cringed, making a note to be quieter. " _Hey, Mr. Know-it-all, what do -_ Jesus, I sound like a teenager." Richie hated how uncharacteristically high-pitched voice sounded, and he sighed, looking up at the ceiling. 

Normally, Richie would also be sleeping, but he was too awake for anything more than to lazily strum his guitar and recite lyrics that didn't sound right on his tongue. He ran his hand through his hair with a frown, irritated, and wanting more coffee, but knowing that he would later come to regret it. 

Usually, although these were hardly the usual circumstances, Richie would be best suited to practice around the other guys. Hearing David and Alec argue over some stupid shit that didn't even matter and watching Tico read while Jon sat amongst a pile of lyrics always seemed to put Richie at ease, but not this time. 

Richie had never done an album by himself before, and now, he felt rather, well, bored because of how alone he was in the process. He usually had the other guys helping him out with the instrumentals and lyrics, but David was only involved because Richie didn't want to waste his time trying to find another reliable keyboardist. 

Looking back down at the clumsily-written lyrics, Richie took a deep breathe to try and bring himself back down to the reality of the situation as a whole.

"This sucks." He muttered. 

As if the words had somehow leaked into his subconscious, Jon made another noise and kicked Richie's leg softly, but almost urgently, at the same time. Richie huffed, but smiled fondly, because it never failed to amuse him. He rubbed Jon's leg and looked back down at the guitar, unsure of what he was even trying to do. 

Richie was at a loss, and even though he had the paper of lyrics, and his fingers were hovering over the strings, ready to begin, he couldn't do it, and he didn't even know why. 

Was it anxiety? Was it trepidation? Was it boredom? 

Picking up the paper again, Richie couldn't help but feel a strange sense of pride for all that he'd managed to accomplish so far. This was his first solo album, and he was determined to make sure that people liked it, but he was at a complete and total loss, with no win in sight. 

Jon kicked Richie again, this time with an accompanying whine, like a wounded dog, and it sounded strangely adorable. Richie smiled, even though he knew exactly what was coming up next, mainly because he knew what would follow after the initial vague panic. 

"Shhh, calm down." Richie whispered, hoping to calm Jon down before anything else ensued. "I'm here. You're here. We're both on the couch, and - " 

"No..no....don't _DO THAT!"_ Jon began to thrash, his hands clenched into fists, eyebrows furrowed, determined even in sleep to fight with his whole life. On that same note, Jon had nothing to fear except for the monsters in his own mind. 

Richie shifted his guitar to the side, reaching over and grabbing Jon by his wrists, trying to keep him in place before he rolled over onto the floor. "I'm here, and you're safe." He said. "It's just a nightmare. It's all in your head." 

"Don't touch me. _Don'ttouchmeletmego."_ Jon mumbled. 

Despite those words, Richie knew that Jon was only trying to get whoever was in his dreams to let him go. Physical contact had always called Jon down than words, anyways. Nonetheless, Richie needed for him to wake up. "All you gotta do is wake up, and I'll be here. Just come back, Jonny." 

"No! I gotta go." Jon managed to pull his bony wrists out of Richie's grasp and then, with a hoarse, painful cry, lurched up, nearly connecting heads with Richie and only missing because Richie managed to jump back in record time. "I need to go!" He gasped out one last time. 

Richie held his hands up, seeing that wild look in Jon's eyes and not liking it one bit. "Hey." He said, calm and collected, smiling slightly to show that he was safe and that Jon was, too, no matter what that nightmare had said. 

Jon's eyes were wide, hair messy. "Again?" He whispered. 

"Yeah." Richie nodded. "It's okay. You're awake, now." He reached over tentatively, hoping for permission,, and Jon shifted until he was burrowed like some sort of animal against Richie's side. 

"Sorry." Jon mumbled. "You were doing stuff, weren't you?" 

Richie chuckled. "Depends on what you mean by that." He placed the guitar back on his lap, smirking at the faint tickle of Jon's hair against his neck. "Go back to sleep, baby." 

"You'll get it right." Jon whispered. "You always do. It just might -" He broke off with a yawn. "-might take a little while." 

Maybe Richie would, maybe he wouldn't, but he was reassured that, at least, he would try a little bit harder, with Jon's heart beating a rhythm against his torso, giving him hope that at least _something_ would work out. 


End file.
